ûchebin estel anim
by smaugs-mommy
Summary: Frodo and Aragorn meet at Gilraen’s grave.


**AN**: another short one. The elvish line is taken from The Lord of The Rings, Appendix A, and so is the last line of Aragorn's song. (Yes blushes I made him sing a lullaby.) 

**Disclaimer:** Aragorn and Frodo are not mine, and I will give them back to Tolkien unharmed.

**Summary:** Frodo and Aragorn meet at Gilraen's grave. Inspired by watching The Fellowship EE.

**Û –chebin estel anim**

The house of Elrond was also called _The Last homely House east of the Sea, _and homely it was with its halls and libraries, little rooms and fireplaces.

Although it was autumn now outside of Rivendell and although cold storms were blowing in other parts of Eriador, the air in Elrond's gardens was still soft and warm and sweet.

Some flowers still blossomed and many trees still bore their red and yellow leafs. Others, such as the pines growing on the northern side of Imladris would never lose them.

There was always a sound of singing voices and the never ceasing rumour of the many small waterfalls.

Yet there was a place in a corner of the gardens where no singing could be heard and where the sound of the waterfalls was nothing more than a faint whisper.

Hidden by a large tree stood a beautiful lady with long wavy hair and sad but noble - almost elvish - features.

Her lips were never to move again; her eyes open but blind, and ivy spread all around her.

Nobody ever came here to marvel at the lady's beauty, and the lady had been standing here for many a year.

She was made of stone. She was the picture of Gilraen, mother of Aragorn.

…

The silence was interrupted by the soft noise of approaching footsteps and a voice, which sang some lines from the Lay of Luthien and Beren.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn and Isildur's heir, knelt down in front of the statue and bowed his head deeply. He spoke in a low voice, whispering endearments into ears that would not hear.

The statue remained pale and heard no voice and would not move.

He cleaned his mother's face from earth and leafs and he was about to leave when he spotted a huddled figure behind a bush.

"I know you are there, Frodo," he said and the hobbit looked up as if caught doing something he should not have done. His cheeks were wet. Fighting for self-control he dried them, using his sleeves. " I'm sorry," he mumbled and stared at the ground " I for my part did not know you were there."

Aragorn sighed, watching as Frodo got to his feet.

After having carried a splinter of a Morgul blade for seventeen days the hobbit still had not totally recovered and the ranger felt guilty when he saw that Frodo wasn't able to take more than a few a steps.

It had been him who had said that the council had to take place as soon as possible.

Frodo sat down on a stone quickly, before he could stumble.

"I had a long talk with my uncle yesterday, maybe a bit too long" Frodo said, seeing the anxiety in Aragorn's face. " There's nothing wrong with me, really. I just think going for a walk when every sensible hobbit is sleeping wasn't my best idea…"

Both of them knew he was lying. Both of them knew that today's council had been too much of a strain for the hobbit.

Frodo's smile faltered. He pulled his legs up onto stone and drew them to his chest.

" Why were you going for a walk in the middle of the night, Frodo?" Aragorn asked, feeling responsible for Frodo's pitiable condition.

"There was a lot I had think about," the hobbit's voice was muffled as he hid his face and two or three fresh tears between his knees.

A lot to think about indeed.

He had been very tired after the council and Sam and Gandalf had told him to go to bed, but he could not. He had to be on his own, outside and walking.

When he was younger a long walk would often solve troubles. Today it did not help.

…

Frodo knew he was considered as very calm and thoughtful.

But inside he was screaming.

When he had volunteered to take the Ring Elrond had nodded and then he had turned to face the hobbit.

He had spoken words full of gratitude and appreciation, saying that Frodo should have a seat among the heroes of old.

This had been when the screaming had started.

Frodo had not only taken the Ring because he wanted to save Middle-Earth. He had taken It because he couldn't bear the thought of somebody else touching It.

Oh no, someone like him did not deserve to sit between Turin and Beren.

Someone like him didn't deserve anything than getting lost in the Nameless Lands, never to find the way home, never to return…

…

" Who is this?" Frodo changed the subject, for he did not dare to tell Aragorn. He glanced at the beautiful statue.

The ranger stepped aside to let Frodo have a better look at it.

"Gilraen," the hobbit read. Frowning he looked up. " Is this your mother?" he asked, dimly recalling a story Bilbo had told him many years ago. Aragorn nodded briefly, marvelling how the hobbit was able to read the elvish runes in almost complete darkness.

"She's dead then," the hobbit murmured, reading the rest of the runes. Although Bilbo had mentioned Gilraen as Aragorn's mother long ago, he had never told Frodo that she had died. He got up from his stone, hesitantly stretching out a hand, but not touching the white face.

"My own mother died long ago," he said and no sooner wished he had not spoken at all.

But the ranger only smiled and knelt down. " I know that, Frodo, I've been told many times by your uncle."

Frodo watched the statue carefully, as if thinking it could come to life any moment.

Moonlight got caught in his eyes and gave them a silvery hue.

" May…may I ask you...something?" he began. "Anything," the ranger replied, stood up and brushed some leafs from his mother's grave. " You may ask anything as long as I may decide whether to answer or not."

" How old where you when she…died?"

His voice was thin and he decided not to talk again until he had regained some form of control.

Now, that would be something for Bilbo's book!

The ring-bearer crying like a child because of his mother.

Aragorn shot him a grievous look.

From all those tears he could tell that Frodo was still terribly weak and probably very exhausted. He did not blame him for being close to tears again. The hobbit had shown much bravery earlier this day when volunteering to take the Ring to Mordor. No, one couldn't blame Frodo for weeping.

Aragorn pretended to be busy cleaning the grave to give Frodo time to dry his tears.

" I was still young," he said when Frodo had settled down again on the large stone.

" But not as young as you were when your mother was taken from you. Still it grieved me to come back and learn she had died in the spring after I had left to fight the orcs. In the first time I often came here and asked her to forgive me. I thought if I had stayed she would still be alive.

Sometimes I would lie down under these trees and when the wind came rustling through them I could almost hear the song she used to sing for me when I was a child."

Silence.

Nobody spoke.

The waters sighed in the distance

"Can you sing it for me?" the hobbit begged. Aragorn smiled. "It is a long time ago that I heard it last. I came here tonight hoping the trees might sing, but they have fallen silent. Perhaps they are too old now. Perhaps they have forgotten how to sing. But I will try my best, young friend."

His voice was deep and low, yet beautiful

"_Sleep my dearest,_

_Dreams are calling_

_Nights is coming _

_Soft and deep_

Can hear the waters falling 

_Little darling, _

_Go to sleep…_

" There was still more…much more…many verses about Imladris, but also about the old stories…but I can't recall anything more but the last two lines"

"…_My precious little elf, _

_I gave hope to the Dunedain,_

_I have kept no hope for myself_…"

"Hope…_Estel_," Frodo said pensively " Now I understand how you came to your name" He felt his sadness lighten and he smiled at the thought of Aragorn's mother calling her son an elf, for the ranger had not looked elvish at all when Frodo had seen him first.

Before he could speak again he started to shudder violently and Aragorn had to catch him to prevent him from falling.

"I'm …sorry…" the hobbit croaked.

Aragorn put him to his feet. " Can you walk?" he asked gently. Frodo nodded, he could feel how his cheeks went a very bright red. He hoped that they would allow him a few days of rest before he had to go to Mordor.

Tired as he was he wouldn't even make it of Imladris…

"Come with me now," the ranger said, " You must rest. You will need your strength"

The hobbit nodded, and together they left the garden's most silent corner.

…

Soon they reached Frodo's room. Never had the hobbit been so grateful for a bed to sleep in.

Carefully he took his small hand out of Aragorn's huge one.

On the way back to Elrond's house his thoughts had travelled to their mothers again, and there was one question he had to ask. He was too tired by now to care if such a question was appropriate or not.

" Aragorn" he whispered, looking up to the man out of eyes, which seemed to know no evil. And the man cursed the Ring and cursed the days, which were to come, as he knew that all innocence would be taken from the hobbit all too soon. He waited for Frodo to continue.

" I know that the souls of the elves go to a place and that they meet there again…

I've been wondering if there is such a place for hobbits too…as a child I tried to die several times…just to find out…do you know, Aragorn? Is there a place like this?"

" That I don't know," he answered " and I don't want you talk about your death yet. You will stay alive and healthy for a long time, Frodo Baggins, and when you are old and tired we might talk about it again. Do you hear me, young Master?"

The words had terrified him and he realized that his answer had maybe been too hard. Frodo was already sitting on his bed and getting undressed.

His cheeks were flushed and his lower lip quivered slightly as he fought with his shirt's buttons. Again the ranger had forgotten that the day had been long and that Frodo was still weakened from his wound.

"I apologize," the ranger sighed. "You scared me, and I overreacted. I do not know whether there is such a place for hobbits or not, but I know that all souls do pass into the west, souls of men and elves alike, so why shouldn't a hobbit's soul go there as well?"

Frodo pulled his nightgown over his head and crawled under his blankets.

Aragorn doubted that the hobbit had heard him; he seemed to be too tired to pay attention.

" Thank you for talking to me, Aragorn, " came Frodo's voice from under the blankets.

" A sad talk it was, but still I enjoyed it .We have to do this again, but perhaps we should talk about other things then." He blew out his candle someone – presumably Sam – had put on his nightstand and smiled at the man.

"Sleep well," he yawned and fell asleep in an instant.

Aragorn tiptoed to the hobbit's bed and pulled the blankets up to Frodo's chin, feeling a sudden rush of responsibility.

"Aragorn," Frodo mumbled sleepily " you were wrong"

" Excuse me?" the ranger said, not knowing what the little being was talking about.

" You said the trees wouldn't sing to you because they are too old, but that's nonsense. Bilbo is old too…and he singing all the time…" he fell silent and did not speak anymore.

Aragorn smiled and left the room.

"May your mother guard your dreams, tithen min," he whispered and then he went to find his beloved.

THE END


End file.
